Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5216390.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez, Morty_Smith, Birdperson, Jerry_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      rickmorty, C137cest, morty_is_insecure, Voyeurism, somebody_just_kill
      jerry_already
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-15 Words: 2507
****** Do You Come Here Freely? ******
by a_side_of_sin
Summary
     Rick doesn’t want to be at this wedding, and Morty’s insecure. Closet
     sex helps them both. A happy ending! Everybody sins.
“Rick, I am pleased you and your family could witness my melding with Tammy.”
Birdperson greeted him warmly. Well, as warmly as possible for Birdperson,
anyway.
 
“Yeah, I just hope you got a pre-meld.” Rick scoffed at his idiot friend.
Birdperson raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could respond, Morty cut him
off with an outraged, “RICK!!!!” and dragged him off in another direction. He
probably thought Rick was being an asshole again. Whatever. Rick knew he was
just being realistic. A pre-meld was a practical way of making sure Birdperson
would be able to get one of his balls back when his sugar baby was done with
him.
 
Morty was pulling Rick along by one of the pockets of his lab coat, and he
yanked him around a corner and out of sight from the party guests. Rick made a
show of digging for his flask and taking a long swallow, but Morty wasn’t
having any of it. He pushed Rick’s arm out of the way so he could lean in,
lecturing from as close as he could get. “Y-y-you know, y-you’re not being very
supportive of Birdperson on his big day.”
 
“Birdperson’s big day, Morty, was at Blood Ridge, on Glaptrap’s third moon,
against the GroURRPPmflamites. This? This is a losing battle.” Rick shrugged,
and took another swig from the flask. Morty was starting to get seriously
annoyed now, and with a cocktail or two in him, he felt just brave enough to
swipe the flask from Rick’s hand and stuff it in one of his own pockets.
 
“Y-you know what, R-rick? You can h-h-have this back when you, when you start
being less of a dick. W-why are you being such a, such a douche about this?”
Morty stabbed a finger up into Rick’s chest, pushing him gently back against a
door that was built into the wall behind him. “You, y-y-you think there’s a
problem with the age difference? Or, or maybe you think he’s too smart for her?
Huh? W-what, what is it, Rick? W-what’s your, y-you, y-y-your problem? Why are
you being such an asshole about your best friend getting married?”
 
In lieu of answering, Rick lifted Morty up by his armpits and spun him around,
slamming the teenager into the wood so that he was the one with his back to the
door. He quickly decided that the best way to avoid the question would be to
distract Morty. He set himself to pressing hot, sloppy kisses to his grandson’s
jawline, while he worked with both hands to undo the bowtie that his daughter
had meticulously set in place.
 
Morty hissed in a breath and attempted to force Rick away from him, smacking
the older man’s hands away from his collar and pushing his face off to the
side. Rick wasn’t fazed; he went right back to pulling at the stubborn bowtie,
murmuring into Morty’s ear as he worked. “Don’t project, MoUURGGHHrty, y-y-y-,
you, y-you insecure little shit. Those things haven’t stopped me from fucking
your delectable little ass into the mattress. In fact, I can think of some
things I’d like to do with that ass right now…”
 
Rick smirked in triumph as he finally worked the bowtie free, and he pulled
Morty’s earlobe into his mouth. He hummed while he suckled at the soft flesh,
thinking about Morty spread out underneath him and begging for anything Rick
would be willing to give him. Morty let out a groan at the feeling of Rick’s
tongue on the sensitive skin, and made another fruitless attempt to push Rick
off of him. “R-rick… Ricckkkkkkk… shit, RICK! Knock it off! Th-the ceremony is
gonna start in like f-five minutes! And s-someone could, someone could see
us!!”
 
“Y-yeah, I knoURRGGHHHw, isn’t it hot?” Still, Rick indulged the kid. He hauled
him forward, pressing their chests together, and he could feel Morty’s pulse
echoing, even through his layers. With Morty out of the way, he yanked open the
door that they’d been leaning up against, and swiftly pulled them both through
it. They fell forward into darkness, which solidified when Rick tugged the door
shut behind them. Rick hadn’t let go of Morty, and he went back to running his
tongue over the spot where Morty’s jaw met his throat, dragging the prettiest
little whines out of his grandson.
 
He shoved the blazer off Morty’s shoulders, and set to work on the buttons of
his dress shirt, all the while pressing kisses into each inch of new skin as it
was exposed. When he ran out of shirt buttons, he moved on to Morty’s dress
pants. Rick figured it was a miracle of science that he hadn’t damaged any of
the kid’s formalwear, between his haste and his inability to see what he was
doing.
 
Before undressing Morty any further, he pulled back just for a second to get a
feel for the layout of the closet. He assumed it was a coat closet; on either
side, there was a rail holding various bits of wool and fur. Maneuvering Morty
by the hips, he pressed him backward maybe three feet, until he once again had
him up against the flat surface of a wall. Morty groaned as his body thudded
into the wood, and he imagined that he could feel each individual blood cell
rushing south as his grandfather’s weight bore down on him.
 
Rick shoved Morty’s dress pants down his hips and over his knees, but left them
tangled around his ankles, too impatient to try to get the kid’s shoes off. He
spun his grandson again, felt him lose his balance, and steadied him with his
hands against the wall and his hips splayed out toward Rick. “Keep those there,
y-yeah, Morty?” The words were enough to send a shiver down Morty’s spine, and
Rick could feel it as he dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to Morty’s
tailbone.
 
He parted Morty’s cheeks and ducked his head to mouth at the kid’s entrance,
eliciting a steady stream of soft “ooooohhh”s from the boy. Impatiently, he
pressed one finger up under his lips, wetting it with his tongue and rubbing
roughly over the puckered opening. He massaged over his Morty’s most vulnerable
spot, sure to keep his mouth close enough that Morty could feel a warm breath
sighed out every few seconds. Rick could feel his own pulse throbbing in his
dick, and the thought of getting inside the tight, teenage ass in front of him
had him pushing his finger forward without further pretense.
 
Morty’s muscles clenched down around the tip, his body’s attempt to fend off
the intrusion. Rick huffed a breath around his hand, and felt his grandson
relax into the warmth. He pulled his head back, and murmured to the kid. “H-hey
M-morty. How about a deal? Give me back my flask, and your old grandpa will
take good care of you, Morty.” Morty hmmmmed, trying to pretend there was any
answer other than yes. “A-a-and, and i-if I-I-I don’t?”
 
“W-well, Morty, you’ve been awfully clingy today, obsessed with the whole
wedding farse. Y-you’re clearly desperate to be, to with me. So, uh, it w-would
be a shame if, if I just left you here to finish by yourself, wouldn’t it?”
 The teen didn’t need any further prompting. He bent forward to the puddle of
fabric around his feet, kicking his shoes out of the way and rearranging his
pants to try to reach the container in the back pocket, and Rick took the
opportunity to bury his mouth once again between Morty’s legs. Morty cried out,
and tried to straighten, but Rick apparently had other plans. He reached
between Morty’s legs for the flask, but forced his grandson to remain bent
forward, open and vulnerable. Tossing back a large swallow of gin, his
unoccupied hand fished in the pockets of his lab coat for a little packet of
lube. Morty whined at the lack of contact, and Rick chuckled as he tore open
the packet and coated his hands.
 
Without further preamble, he proceeded to work one slick finger into Morty,
this time meeting with much less resistance. Soon, Morty was letting out a sigh
with each crook of Rick’s finger. The older man added another, thrusting
quickly and with little patience for the focused prep he would normally give
the kid. Morty didn’t seem to mind, though, and soon he was leaning against the
wall, bracing himself so he could have the leverage to push his hips back onto
Rick’s hand. The kid was practically doing all the work, and with each stroke,
he was getting more audible “aaahhhh”s and “ooohhhhh”s and “fuck, R-rick, y-
yeah”s.
 
Rick thought about adding a third finger, but then he thought about how hot it
would be to just take Morty now, and then get to watch his face flush red every
time he went to sit down for the rest of the day. Deciding he liked that plan,
he stood, quickly undoing his pants, just enough that he could get his cock out
and slicked up. Lifting Morty bodily from the ground, he spun him around for
the third time, and with the teen’s back pressed into the wall again, Rick
pushed up into him in one swift, unbroken stroke.
 
Morty let out a strangled cry, the stretch was too much too fast while
simultaneously being absolutely perfect. Rick gave him a few seconds to adjust,
his hand tracing over Morty’s stomach, knuckles brushing against his cock. He
didn’t wait long though, before pounding up with a punishing pace into his
grandson’s taut little hole. With one hand on Morty’s hip helping to hold him
against the wall, and the other wrapped around the soft-velvet skin of his
cock, Rick found he was at a loss, with no other appendages left to clap over
Morty’s mouth when he shrieked out Rick’s name.
 
The kid was close; Rick could feel him tightening around his cock, letting out
desperate moans and panting Rick’s name in time with each thrust. Rick needed
to push him over the edge, needed to feel that slick warmth pulsing around him,
so he started muttering filth to Morty as he fucked up into him.
 
“Jesus christ M-Morty you little slut, y-you’re so desperate for my dick, th-
this whole stunt was never, was never about the wedding, I bURRRGHHHet. I bet
your tight little ass dragged me here on purpose, knew I’d fuck you through a
wall. Yeah, you like that, don’t y-you? Fuckkkk Morty feel so good on my cock,
you piece of shit, be a good boy and come for grandpa, M-morty.”
 
Morty let out a full-throated “AHHHH!!” and Rick felt his dick throb as the
first pulse of come shot up onto his stomach. But this time, Rick was forced to
yank his hand away from Morty’s cock and slap it over his mouth when a yellow
crack of light announced that someone had opened the closet door. “Rick? Is
that you?”
 
“FUCK OFF JERRY!” Rick kept his hand sealed over Morty’s mouth, and while his
cry cut off into a horrified squeak, his cock continued to blurt creamy white
onto his abdomen. Rick could see where it gleamed on Morty’s stomach, even
though the teenager was still covered in the shadow created by Rick’s body.
 
“Rude. I thought I heard you in here. The wedding is about to start. What are
you doing in a coat closet? And where’s Morty?” Jerry took an inquisitive step
forward, and Rick could feel Morty’s pulse, his whole body, trembling, wrapped
around his cock. The kid clearly didn’t realize there was no way his father
could see him, not with the angle the light was falling into the closet and the
way Rick had him pinned to the wall.
 
“I SAID, FUCK OFF JERRY!” Morty tensed, terrified that his father would decide
to step further into the closet and finally realize what he was looking at.
Almost subconsciously, Rick rolled his hips up into the tight heat, relishing
the way the boy’s inner walls clenched around him, unable to keep himself from
fucking into his grandson even with his idiot son-in-law standing right there.
 
Jerry apparently saw the hip roll, and let out a disgusted sigh. “Ugghhhhhhh,
unacceptable, Rick. And at a wedding of all places. Nice. Realllll niiice.”
Rick grunted, and just for the sake of being an asshole, thrust forward again.
“Well, listen, J-jerry, unless you’re trying to stick around and w-watch me
finish, I said FUCK OFF ALREADY JESUS CHRIST!” He pushed up onto his toes,
grinding his cock against Morty’s prostate and eliciting another distressed
squeak from the kid, finally getting a scandalized Jerry to pull the door shut.
Rick could hear him muttering something about “no class at all…” as he
retreated.
 
Morty made an anxious noise and wriggled around on Rick’s dick, trying to get
his grandfather to put him down, but there was no way Rick was going to leave
the closet without finishing. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to Morty’s
ear, and murmured, “That, that was a close one, M-Morty. SoURRRPPP be a good
boy, and beg for it. Beg your grandpa to finish, to fill up that fucked out
hole, to make you feel it. Beg for it, M-morty, otherwise we might miss the
wedding.”
 
The kid whined, reluctant, but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere until Rick
came. Softly, still afraid that Jerry might come back, Morty whimpered out
little pleas for his grandfather, while the man picked back up his thrusts,
fucking up into the lithe teen body. “Fuck, R-rick, it’s, it’s so good, please
R-rick, please fill me up with your come, please f-fuck me, Rick, please come
inside me, please give me y-y-you, your come, fuck, R-rick, I, I love you,
Rick, fucckkkkk…”
 
Rick shoved forward one last time before spilling into Morty. He groaned as he
came, already knowing how sore he would be later from holding the kid up
against the wall like that for as long as he did. He lifted Morty smoothly off
of his cock and set him on his feet. After he waited a few seconds to make sure
Morty wasn’t going to collapse, he used one of the coats to wipe himself off
and hauled his pants back up. He couldn’t see the kid in front of him in the
dark, but he leaned forward anyway and tried to press a drunken kiss to his
forehead. “Yeah, yeah, I love you tooURRPPP, you little piece of shit.”
 
Without waiting for Morty to get dressed, Rick stepped out of the closet,
poking only his head back in to catch one last glimpse of his grandson’s
silhouette. He knew the kid would be blushing, if he could see him. “The
difference, M-morty, is I don’t need to tell you in front of a buURRGHHHnch of
assholes for you to know I mean it. N-now hurry up. I’ll, I’ll save you a
seat.”
 
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